


inflections of a word

by zoemargaret



Category: Sports RPF, Tennis RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-21
Updated: 2010-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-12 19:24:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoemargaret/pseuds/zoemargaret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Fernando just needs</p>
            </blockquote>





	inflections of a word

Fernando wipes his forehead as he trudges off the court. Reyes pats his shoulder. “Good job today. Take it easy tonight and we'll work on your forehand tomorrow morning.”

Fernando sighs and musters up a smile. “Si, ok. Tomorrow morning.” Reyes slaps his shoulder one last time and wanders off to talk to another coach. Once the other man can't see, Fernando drops his smile and lets his shoulders slump. He gets his gear in order without thinking, the motions ingrained from years of repetition.

Stepping into the locker room, he tosses his bag on the bench and casually strips out of his gear. Nods at the players changing and leaving without actually looking at anyone, just focused on getting to the shower. Once he's there he turns his face into the spray and just stands there, letting the water pound into his face, seep into his eyes and mouth. He doesn't know how long he stands there before the inevitable interruption.

“Nando,” someone touches his shoulder. He jerks in surprise, sputtering as his mouth fills with warm water. Blindly gropes for the faucet but David beats him to it. He runs a hand through his hair, tugging just a bit too hard. David sighs and tosses him a towel. “Come on,” he says, words gentle. “Feli's waiting for you.”

“Thanks.” He wraps the towel around his waist and walks into the changing room, the shift from steam to dry air a familiar shock. He dries off and dresses quickly, gathering his gear without bothering to look in the mirror. The second he's out the door he's looking for his partner.

“Nando!” Fernando's smiling before he even turns around. The other man is gorgeous even in shorts and flipflops.

“Hi,” he grins as a sweaty Roddick pushes past them with a nod. The second Roddick's in the locker room Feli tilts his chin up with a gentle touch and kisses him, tongue sweeping into his mouth like he's savoring a rare delicacy. Fernando moans and accepts, suckling at his tongue eagerly. Feli takes advantage and cups his head, tilting him back so he can possess him utterly, lush and demanding and so beautiful.

A polite cough from behind them and Feli reluctantly releases Fernando's mouth. “So sorry to interrupt,” David smirks. “But you might want to take this to your room.”

Fernando sighs and drops his head to rest against Feli's neck. “Fine,” he mutters. But even the presence of half a dozen players on the other side of the door isn't enough to keep him from brushing his nose into that tantalizing little dip. “Feli, you smell so good,” he says, words thick and fuzzy on his tongue. Feli exhales heavily at the words and that breath of air is enough to make Fernando dizzyingly hard and unsteady on his feet. He leans against Feli and lets the other man bear his weight for once.

“Nando?” Feli sounds worried.

Fernando manages a small laugh. “Feli, I'm fine. I'm just exhausted. Can we go?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Fernando waves at David and lets Feli take him home.

The second they're in the room Fernando grabs for Feli. “What's gotten into you, Nando?” Feli asks as he runs his hand through Nando's unstyled hair, holding him back enough to look him in the eye. “Are you really ok?” Fernando shrugs and slides his hand below Feli's shirt and clings to his defined hips, muscles firm and alive beneath his fingers. “No, really. You were so excited this morning. What happened?”

Fernando closes his eyes. “Can we fuck?” he asks. Doesn't look for Feli's reaction to his words, just says them. “I want you inside me.”

A pause then, “Well that's convincing.” Fernando opens his eyes as Feli pulls away from him to sit on the bed. Feli leans back on his arms and glares, mouth twisted with worry. “Not that I wouldn't love to fuck you, but I'm pretty certain Reyes would shoot me.” He smiles at Fernando, inviting him to share the joke and Fernando has never had a defense against that shy pleading. He climbs on the bed and pushes Feli onto his back then sprawls on his side next to him, one arm possessively over his chest. Feli lets him with a bemused smile his only response. Once Fernando stops moving, Feli twines his fingers through Fernando's, the gesture a silent question.

Fernando finally answers. “My parents have been asking me about you,” he admits, focusing on Feli's long fingers. There's a bandage on one, the pale plastic vivid against the dark cream of Feli's skin, and he searches for the edge with restless fingers.

“Oh?” Feli says nothing else, just shifts them both till he can get his other arm under Fernando's head.

“Yeah. Mamá was asking if I met any nice girls when I was with you on the beach. I told her no and she sounded... I don't know.” He tucks his nose under the curve of Feli's bicep and bites his lip. His mother had sounded disappointed, resigned. Fernando had found himself wanting to apologize, stomach twisting with guilt. Wanted to tell her, _I love him Mam_ _á_ _, please be happy for me_. He's a grown man and he didn't think he needed his mother's blessing, not until he heard that sadness and terrible resignation in her voice. And maybe he's reading too much into those few words, maybe he's exaggerating, panic stricken for nothing, but he doesn't think so.

Feli strokes his shoulder, his fingers pressing oddly from the awkward angle and Fernando levers himself up until Feli can rearrange his arm. “What did she say?” Feli asks as he begins to stroke again, hand warm and solid as it traces the curve of Fernando's skin.

Fernando ignores the question in favor of looking at his partner. Even in his ratty gray tshirt and long shorts that Fernando's pretty sure he stole from Rafa, Feli glows. The way the gray cotton lays against his stomach, the strain of the green pants across his thighs, everything about him is perfect. “You're beautiful,” he murmurs before he even thinks the words.

Feli raises his eyebrows again but says “Thank you. I know. Now tell me what your mother said.”

Fernando blows out an exasperated sigh. “Asshole,” he mutters. “Can't we just...” He pushes their conjoined hands down to Feli's waist, dragging his fingers as best he can.

But Feli resists. Shifts his grip to pull both hands back up to again rest on his chest. “No. Not until you tell me what's wrong.”

Fernando flops onto his back. “What, we're girls now?” he sneers as he tries to cross his arms across his chest. He gets one arm, but Feli refuses to relinquish the other.

Instead, Feli scoots even closer and informs him, “Being an asshole isn't going to stop me.”

Fernando glares at the ceiling. Even thinking about it hurts in places he likes to pretend don't exist; ignoring it seems like a smart decision. He turns his head to tell Feli this, but the other man is looking at him. Just looking at him, familiar blue eyes crinkled with concern. Fernando grins and uncurls his arm. “Going to get wrinkles, Fidgiano,” he teases as he traces the faint lines next to his eyes.

Feliciano doesn't bother to speak this time, instead turns to kiss his wrist, warm breath deflecting to waft across Fernando's face. The intimacy of the gesture is so sweet it hurts; Fernando admits defeat. “I talked to my mamá today.” He strokes his free hand through Feli's hair in one of his favorite gestures; long or short he can't keep his fingers out of it. “I think she might know.”

Feliciano's hand tightens in his, but his eyes are steady on Fernando's. “What makes you say that?” and Fernando wants _out_. It's what he's always done before, gone onto the court and ran until there's no space for thoughts, no space for anything but the ball and the white straight lines. And if he did, Feli would understand; most tennis players understand coping through tennis. But. Feli deserves more than that. Feli has stripped himself open for Fernando, shown him every insecurity and ugly place, poked open wounds and torn away scabs for him. He owes Feli nothing less.

“Her voice. The way she said, 'oh' when I told her I hadn't met any girls on holiday.” A sudden lassitude grips his body and he so badly wants to give into it, to just fade away.

But Feli notices and squeezes his hand even tighter, his nails digging in enough to hurt. “Did she say anything direct? I mean, did she ask?” Fernando shakes his head. “Then how do you know? Maybe she was just disappointed you didn't meet any girls.”

“No. She sounds...You know that time Sara thought she was pregnant and was talking about an abortion? She didn't talk to her for two weeks. I...” he closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see Feli, “She sounded like that.” He knows it doesn't make sense as he says the words and he wants to take them back. But there's no other way to describe it, both how she sounded and how he feels.

Complete silence. And then Feli tugging him to his chest, wordlessly tucking Fernando's head under his chin. For the first time all day Fernando really relaxes, his shoulders and neck almost hurting from the sudden lack of tension. “Well,” Feli says, obviously picking his words with care, “it might not be that bad. I mean, Nando, come on. Your parents love me.” Fernando does his best to smile at that, but it's feeble at best. Even without seeing his face Feli senses it and he sighs, breath ruffling Fernando's hair. “Fernando, your parents love you. And, all joking aside, I've spent enough time with your family for them to know I'm gay. And you know they've never had a problem with me. For God's sake Olga treats me like her long lost son.”

Fernando sighs in partial agreement. It's all true. His parents are well aware that Feli's gay; Fernando's pretty sure his sister's _cat_ knows Feli is gay. And they've never seemed to have a problem with it. “They used to invite Marat to dinner with us.” It's an old memory, Marat and Feli holding hands in the restaurant as Sara teased them about some tournament, Marat laughing and throwing bread at her and Feli smacking him in retaliation.

“See?” Feli cups the back of Fernando's neck and squeezes, strong grip comforting. “I don't think it'll be as bad as you think.”

"No?” Fernando asks.

“No, I really don't.”

Fernando swallows down the emotion thick in his throat. It's not that he doesn't believe Feli, but... “So, if I tell them,” the words tumble out, “Will you come with me?”

There's no hesitation. “Of course.” And Fernando knows that it's not that easy. No matter how much his parents love and accept Feli, he's afraid that it'll be different for him, for the only son.

But he doesn't want to think about this anymore, and he's always known how to do that. Pushes even more into Feli's throat and allows the tension to dissipate. His body takes the opportunity to tell him exactly how good Feli smells. Fernando nudges his nose into the hollow of his throat, the scent of Feli's skin faintly masked by a trace of cologne. His mouth waters and he opens his mouth just enough for his tongue to flicker out and taste. “Nando,” Feli's voice is amused and just a shade deeper than normal.

“Yes?” he asks without pulling back, the word puffing against Feli's skin. Angles his head and nips at the tendons of Feli's neck, mouthing and biting in turn, trying to coax more sounds from Feli's mouth.

“God,” Feli grunts, hand twining through Fernando's hair, Fernando murmuring at the sensation. “Fer, you've had a long day-”

“And now I want my boyfriend to fuck me,” Fernando interrupts, pulling his head out of Feli's neck to meet his eyes.

“Reyes-”

“We'll take it slow.” Fernando sits up and strips out of his shirt and wriggles out of his pants before straddling Feli's waist. Feli raises his eyebrows and opens his mouth to say something but Fernando slaps his hand across it and leans down, only inches away. “You can finger me as much as you want, use lots of lube. Get me dripping and begging before you slide that huge cock of yours into me.” He knows he's won; Feli's eyes are already dark and dilated. “Deal?”

Feli stares at him for one long second, then suddenly Fernando's on his back, Feli stripping off his own shirt with ruthless efficiency. “Deal.” Fernando doesn't bother hiding his triumphant smile and Feli pauses just above him, lips millimeters away. “Brat.” But his voice is fond and his lips are soft.

For now it's more than enough.


End file.
